


Capacity for Terror

by thundercaya



Series: Exterminator!Steve [4]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen, Interviews, Past Relationship(s), Re-Education
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundercaya/pseuds/thundercaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos invites Steve to get everything off his chest. At least, everything he can remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capacity for Terror

When Carlos had tried to help Steve with his shark gopher bite, he'd done it as a friend, and as someone who generally didn't just go around letting people die. However, when Steve had almost died right there in his lab, Carlos realized what a loss it would be to his study of Night Vale if Steve didn't leave behind a record of his experience.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Steve asked, lingering in his entryway after closing the door behind Carlos. "We could spend the next two hours just talking about my daughter's Yu-Gi-Oh! cards and you'd still get a black bag from the simple fact that you're here."

"I know," Carlos said. Of course two of them together in only place the Sheriff's Secret Police couldn't hear them would read as a huge threat to the government. "I feel like I need to do it, though. What about you? If you're having second thoughts I can leave right now."

"It's fine," Steve dismissed. "I'm over-due, really. Come on in, then."

"Where do you get soundproof windows in Night Vale anyway?" Carlos asked, following Steve into the living room.

"The guy who makes windows had a huge huge ant problem," Steve explained, taking a seat on the couch.

Carlos winced, knowing that Steve didn't say "huge" twice for emphasis. He took a small camcorder out of his lab coat and set it on top of the entertainment center, facing Steve. "Are you ready?" he asked. Steve nodded, and Carlos hit record before taking a seat on an armchair.

"Should I talk to the camera or you?" Steve asked, eyes on the lens.

"Whatever's more comfortable for you," Carlos said. Steve shifted a bit to face Carlos. "All right, let's begin. What is your name?"

"Steve Carlsberg," Steve said. "Uh, Steven Thomas Carlsberg."

"And how old are you, Steve?" Carlos asked.

"I'm forty years old."

"How long have you lived in Night Vale?"

"God, uh...." Steve scratched the back of his head. "Stella is.... So that's... about sixteen years now."

"And where did you live before?"

"I don't know," Steve said. "I didn't forget, uh.... I mean, I didn't _just_ forget. They _made_  me forget it. I don't know why. It's not like I could make it back there even when I knew where _there_ was, so I don't know why they.... Do you know where _you're_ from?"

"Flagstaff, Arizona," Carlos said.

"Route 66," Steve noted.

"Yeah."

"Well, I think I'm from somewhere near here," Steve said. "The weather was the same. Uh, not, you know, ' _the weather'_ , but the actual weather."

"That was pretty good," Carlos said, smiling lightly.

Steve shrugged. "I should think so. I've heard him say it enough times. Anyway, the drive here was pretty short, too. But the, uh, drive back out...wasn't."

"We'll get to that," Carlos said. "Tell me about why you came here."

"It was a job," Steve said. "I, uh, thought it was weird, you know? Why would anyone have to call out of town for an exterminator? Didn't they have any of those here? The answer was no, they didn't, and that was even weirder. But my boss sent me, and I came. I fumigated the preschool. Took a couple days. Stayed at a hotel. I... don't remember which. When the job was done, the school board signed off, they gave me some water for the trip, I got in the company truck, and I drove off the way I came."

"But you never got there."

"Right. I, uh.... Three days. I drove for three days. It didn't feel so long but, it.... Well, it felt a lot longer, too." Steve shifted uncomfortably, frowning at the ground. "I don't know if-- I mean, I gave up pretty quick on finding... wherever it was I'm from, but I kept thinking 'I have to come across a town, any town. Another car. Uh, a hitch-hiker on the road. Another person, anything!' But I didn't. And I just-- I kept driving. Then finally I just pulled over to the side of the road just in time to pass out from dehydration. It-- It was late afternoon. The clock in the dash had stopped working the moment I drove into town, but I could tell by the sun it was late afternoon. I woke up the same day in the hospital. Night Vale General Hospital. The sun was still out." He glanced up at Carlos. "Can you-- I mean, I drove for _three days_ away from this place, and in less than a couple hours I was back."

"The sun's not really the best indicator of time around here," Carlos said. "What happened at the hospital?"

"Well, uh.... I tried to call my boss," Steve said. "To let him know what had happened. Or what I thought had happened. Or something, I don't know. Mostly to beg him not to fire me. But I couldn't get through. I would dial and the hospital phone just gave me this horrible screeching noise back. I tried to call my parents, my brother, anyone whose number I could remember, and the same thing happened. I asked the nurse if I was maybe doing it wrong and she said it was supposed to do that. I, uh, well, they let me out of the hospital and I told them I couldn't pay the co-pay on my insurance. Because my last paycheck was probably sitting in my mailbox at home. They said it was fine. 'It's fine, just--there's a wasp nest by the patio outside. Could you have a look at it?'"

"Was that why they were keeping you?" Carlos asked. "Because there wasn't an exterminator in town?"

"Yeah, that was why," Steve confirmed with a nod. "But I didn't realize it just then. I was-- I was just so glad that they were giving me another way to pay for it. I took care of the wasp nest, and then I got ready to leave again. They told me I shouldn't drive yet. And really, I should get my driver seat replaced, because-- Well, it was three days. It made sense that I--" Steve ducked his head with embarrassment, as if ruining the upholstery in the company car were the worst part of his story. "But honestly, I didn't even notice.

 "I--I didn't want to stay another second, God, but they were really insistent so I did it. And then the guy who was supposed to replace my seat took my truck apart. Just took it apart. Said there was no way around it. Needed an overhaul, nothing else for it. I told him I couldn't _afford_ an overhaul. I couldn't _afford_ the hotel stay while I waited for the truck to be ready. I couldn't contact the company to cover it. They said 'it's fine, just there's this ant hill' and 'there's these spiders,' and that's when I knew why I was still here. It was-- You always think that if you got kidnapped it would be for-- for money, or well, for sex, if you want to go there. But for your trade? That's some _Misery_ shit right there."

"Did you try to leave again?" Carlos asked. "Once they fixed your truck?"

"No, I-- Well, I didn't think I could go through it again. I didn't want to drive for days into nowhere only to end up back _here_. So I-- I took care of a roach problem at an apartment complex in exchange for a unit, took on some more jobs, and just... did what I'd been doing--what I've been doing since."

"So this whole experience of being lured to Night Vale and being forced to fill an empty niche, was that what motivated you to investigate the government?"

"No, I--you would think, but--No. I tried to leave it alone. I mean, the whole thing was just beyond my comprehension, and beyond my capacity for terror." Steve gave a wry smile. "Heh. At the time. I just pretended I was here by choice. But then things got weirder. I found--uh.... I don't know what I found. They made me forget. But I didn't forget that I found _something_. I told City Council about it, thought they might be concerned. They weren't. Never looked into it. I told them about the next one, and the next one. They never _did_ anything. They never _told_ anyone that there was any danger. So, uh, I started doing it."

"Your pamphlets?" Carlos asked.

"Well, uh, first I was just--you know--talking to people, on the street and everything. But the thing was that sometimes I'd find something out and I'd think 'this is something everyone needs to know about.' And I'd tell someone and they already knew. They just didn't care. But other times they really didn't know. I couldn't tell those things apart--uh... still can't sometimes--so, yeah. The pamphlets were easier. Two seconds to hand someone a pamphlet that coved everything, so they could read it when they got bored, instead of me trying to hold their attention long enough to figure out what they needed to know and what was old news."

"Did people listen to you?" Carlos asked.

"Some did," Steve said, "but then they'd disappear. And when they came back they didn't listen anymore. Then I sort of... stopped for a while. When I met Bella."

"Are you comfortable talking to me about your relationships?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Steve dismissed.

"All right," Carlos said. "Just don't tell me anything that'll get me in trouble."

"You're in my house," Steve shrugged. "You're already in trouble."

"I meant with Cecil."

"So did I."

"Really?" Carlos asked. "I thought you two made up."

"Yeah, the thing about making up with someone right before you die," Steve said, scratching the back of his head, "is that it only counts if you actually die. I lived and he unforgave me."

"That's so like him," Carlos sighed.

"I'm surprised you didn't know," Steve said. "Didn't you hear what he said about me yesterday? Well, it was pretty far into the show." Steve cocked an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you only listen to the mandated five minutes."

"No, of course not," Carlos defended. "I always listen to the whole thing. Just, uh, sometimes I'm also _working_ and I don't catch everything."

"Your secret's safe with me," Steve said.

"Thanks," Carlos said. "So, uh. Back to Bella?"

Steve sighed heavily. "Bella. Well, Bella was-- Let's not kid ourselves. She was out of my league. Her leaving me made more sense than her looking twice at me. My, uh, my parents used to tell me-- They would say to me, 'Steve, we don't care what you do in the meantime, but you have to marry a woman.' And well, I wasn't opposed to the idea. I like women. But men were always more into me than women were. So here's this woman who by all accounts shouldn't be interested in me, but is. So I just went with it. No questions asked. And it felt so good to have someone--to not be alone, _here_ \--for a while I stopped asking questions at all."

"What got you started again?" Carlos asked.

"Stella. My daughter. We, uh.... Bella and I--Well, Bella told me that of _course_ she was on birth control, so I thought she had it covered. It turns out that there was something I was supposed to be doing, too. I, uh.... I'm still not _entirely_ sure what it was, but I know it involves blood sacrifice."

"Of course it does," Carlos said with a bemused shake of his head. "Why not? Everything else does."

"Right. Well, I didn't _do_ that, and uh, Bella got pregnant. I had a house by then, and she moved in with me. We got married, then Stella was born. And when I saw her, I.... I didn't want her to live in this awful place. And I knew... I knew I couldn't take her away from here, so I thought maybe... maybe if I kept getting the truth out there, I could make this town a little less awful."

"Did you make any headway?" Carlos asked.

"God, no," Steve said, running his hand down his face. "It's like, uh.... Like trying to dig through concrete with a plastic spoon. If you try to scratch away at it the spoon will wear down long before you put so much as a groove in the concrete. Night Vale is just this huge slab of concrete, and I'm a fucking plastic spoon. And I'm wearing down."

"But you keep doing it."

"Yeah, I.... I don't know what I'd do if I stopped now. Would I.... Would I even still be me if I just lived like everyone else? Stopped making pamphlets, got windows that weren't soundproofed, screamed at the sky like it's the scariest thing out there?" Steve turned up his palm in a small shrug. "Maybe it is. I'm actually relieved that Cecil unforgave me. If Cecil likes me, who even am I?"

"Well..." Carlos said, "you were Steve Carlsberg before he met you. And you were Steve Carlsberg when he was in love with you. So I think if he started liking you again, you'd still be Steve Carlsberg."

"That's... nice of you," Steve said "Really. I mean that. But you don't have to... ground me or anything. I'm just-- I always start getting a little weird when I'm due for re-education. Antsy, I guess. I just, uh.... It's pretty regular, usually, and they're kind of late right now, by a matter of months, and-- Well, if I'm honest I think I might be addicted to it."

Carlos started to speak, but couldn't find a response to that.

"Sorry," Steve said. "That's probably not what you came here to hear."

"It's not what I expected to hear," Carlos admitted. "But whatever you want to say about it, or anything else, is what I'm here to hear."

Steve crossed his arms in front of his stomach, essentially closing off that topic for now. "Well, I... do have some more to say about Bella, and how we split up."

"How long ago was that?"

"Ten years now. We weren't married very long. Four years. She, uh--well, I wouldn't say she fell out of love with me. It's more that she stopped liking me altogether. She didn't want to do anything with me and Stella, and she was always trying to get me to work more, like she didn't even want me around. And there was this one time I sort of snuck up on her. I didn't mean to, I was just-- Stella was asleep and I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn't wake her up. I startled Bella and she-- She broke my arm." Steve grabbed said arm, rubbing the site of the old fracture. "I wasn't-- I mean, maybe if I'd grown up in Night Vale, it would be my instinct to break the arm of anyone who snuck up on me, so I wasn't especially mad at her, but she didn't even seem sorry about it. _She_ was mad at _me._ She said 'how are you supposed to kill rats now, Steven?'

"I don't know why I was always 'Steven' to her. I uh.... That's what it says on my birth certificate. Driver's license. All that good stuff. I'm Steven on paper. But I'm just Steve. I introduce myself as Steve. I introduced myself to _her_ as Steve. I don't know. I guess the rift was always there and for whatever reason she was tired of pretending it wasn't. I, uh... I'd been through break-ups before. I could feel it coming, but this time was different. There was a kid involved and I didn't know what to do about that. I didn't want there to be some big messy custody battle, but I guess I should've known there wouldn't be. She just let me have her. She said she'd visit, sure, but she didn't even want weekends. Can you imagine not wanting your own kid? I mean, sure, she didn't want Stella in the first place, but a lot of kids are unplanned and the parents warm up to the idea, don't they?"

For a moment Carlos said nothing. He thought of Bella showing up at his lab just in the nick of time, with the sand shark flu treatment he was still four or five hours from finding himself. He thought of her getting the drop on Cecil, who still didn't even know it had happened, and who despite also growing up in Night Vale, did not have the instinct to break the arm of anyone who snuck up on him. Bella meeting Steve in person and addressing him by the name he went by on paper, as if she'd known him on paper first. Bella being crazy for Steve when her affection was enough to keep him from prying into government affairs, becoming exasperated and distant when it wasn't.

It seemed obvious to Carlos, and he wondered how Steve, who should have been all over something like this, hadn't figured out that Bella was clearly working for the government in some capacity. But maybe Steve _had_ figured it out, years ago. Maybe he'd been re-educated, made to forget, and then Bella had left in an attempt to keep him from finding out again. Carlos wondered if--no. There was no way that telling Steve the biggest conspiracy of his life _was_ his life would help more than it would hurt.

"Carlos," Steve said. "Hey, Carlos, you there?"

Carlos eyes snapped into focus, meeting Steve's, then he averted his gaze.

"Yeah, sorry." He cleared his throat. "Got a bit distracted for a second. You know. Science."

"I'm not your boyfriend, you know," Steve said, cocking an eyebrow. "'Science' isn't the magical answer to everything."

"Right," Carlos said, flashing an embarrassed smile. "Actually, that's not a bad place to go next."

"Your boyfriend?" Steve asked. "I would imagine he already told you everything."

"Not everything, no," Carlos said, "but he did tell me about the secret ingredient you slipped into his last scone."

"So you _do_ know about that?" Steve asked. "Not my finest moment." He looked at Carlos, incredulous. "And you still like me?"

"Well, it was a shitty thing to do," Carlos said, "but you obviously know that. And it was a long time ago. Do I wish he could have gone his whole life without being hurt like that? Of course. But I can't say I wish you were still together."

"All valid points," Steve said. "I'm not complaining, anyway. I don't exactly have friends in abundance."

"Well, as you can imagine, Cecil only told me the bad stuff. Uh, unless it was _all_ bad."

"He probably thinks so now, but it really wasn't," Steve said. "We had a lot of fun at first."

Carlos furrowed his brow.

"No, I mean-- We used to do this thing--"

Carlos pursed his lips.

"No, not-- We had this game--"

Carlos grimaced.

"Goddammit, Carlos!" Steve said, falling into a fit of laughter. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"I'm sorry!" Carlos said, laughing as well. "Okay, so I'm assuming you mean an actual game."

"Well, like a scavenger hunt," Steve said. "You know how he's into musical theater. And you know how there are secret productions all the time. We would just go around town and try see who could find out first when and where the shows would be, and whoever lost would have to buy the tickets. He usually won. Everyone liked him, just like now. I wonder what _that's_ like. People wanted to talk to him, to please him, so if they knew anything they'd tell him. Um, one of the first ones we saw together was _Rent_ , and he told me that he actually auditioned for it. Thing was he wanted to play Mark because he really loved all of Mark's songs, but, uh, they wanted to cast him as Collins so he didn't do it. On the drive home he sang me one of Mark's songs. His voice wasn't really suited for the part, but he was really good just the same."

"I've heard him sing it," Carlos said. "You're right on both counts."

"One time we went out driving in the desert. We parked out under the stars and--You're making that face again. I didn't mean--Okay, yes, we did that, too, but-- I explained the phases of the moon to him. It was such a simple thing for me, but he was enthralled."

"But Cecil doesn't know--"

"No, not anymore," Steve confirmed. "We both got re-educated. He doesn't remember it happened. I... don't remember how to explain the phases of the moon. I don't know why they take some of the things they take. Why does it hurt them for us to know how the moon works? I wish they'd let him keep it. It was one of the few dates that was my idea. He always wanted to do the same things. He would drag me to karaoke and I didn't mind, really, but he always wanted to do duets, and, uh, it's not like I _can't_ sing, but singing with someone who's that good really throws your shortcomings into sharp relief."

"Don't I know it," Carlos said. "And because his voice is deeper I always get stuck with the girl parts."

"Yeah, that, too. Uh, Stella came with us once. Her practice got cancelled, and it was either take her with us or stay home. I sat it out, let them sing. He was always great with her. She adores him, still. I mean, everybody does, except that, uh, river rock, but, I don't know. I don't think he realizes... what it does to her. Him talking about me the way he does, to the whole town. She's a freshman in high school. Humiliation is practically a death sentence."

"I'll talk to him," Carlos said. "I mean, I have, before, but I didn't think of it that way, and I'm guessing neither did he. I know he likes her, too."

"Yeah, he doesn't always think about things in the way you'd want him to," Steve said. "Which was the issue. But, you know, I don't hold anything against him now. All the problems I had with him went away when he moved out. He's not a bad person, or even a bad boyfriend. It was just a bad match."

"I tried to tell him that about you once," Carlos said. "He looked at me like if I said Hitler was a pretty all right guy." He winced. "Uh, sorry. I shouldn't have told you that."

"It's fine," Steve dismissed. "There's no hiding that."

"So after Cecil... there was no one else, right?"

"Right," Steve said. "You think it's hard getting a date when no one notices you? Try it when everyone hates you. The only people who want to come near me are the Sheriff's Secret Police, and that's sort of an abusive relationship."

"Do you know what they do?" Carlos asked. "During re-education? I know you're not supposed to remember, but...."

"Oh, there are things I remember," Steve said. "Nothing about the first few times. Maybe not the first dozen. But, uh, having it done so many times, uh...parts of it start to feel familiar, and familiar things are easier to remember. I don't... remember everything. I don't remember the... _ways_ they've tortured me. Maybe it's always different, and anyway, I think my brain just refuses to remember. And I, uh, find other things to focus on. Like the music. I remember the first time I noticed the music. It was 'Last Christmas' by Wham! over and over again. The next time I heard it outside it made my skin crawl, and I thought that was the point. To leave you something to remind you to stay out of trouble. Then I realized we're not _supposed_ to remember anything. That association shouldn't even be there. The music isn't for us at all. And then I realized--and this is just--they're bored. Like it's some kind of mind-numbing office job and the boss is nice enough to let them listen to the radio. They're doing these unspeakable things, but they're just at work and they're bored.

"The last time they had me, I just--" Steve's mouth pulled into a grimace, his brow furrowing with remembered distress.  "There's this dissonance between what you're feeling and what you're hearing. They were playing this really optimistic and encouraging pop rock song while doing whatever it was they were doing to me. I don't remember now, but at the time I was so immersed in it and it was all so clear, and it was funny. It was so inappropriate and it was just so fucking funny. I started laughing. I mean, just... hysterically laughing." He was almost grinning now, a wild, cheerless grin. "Like, with tears and everything, and I think my stomach hurt more than anything else. They told me to stop, be quiet, _shut up_. And I tired, I really did. I just couldn't. It was beyond my control, like-- Hell, like everything else in my life.  I thought they were going to kill me. I _wanted_ them to kill me. But they just sedated me and that was it.

"I don't, uh...." Steve met Carlos' eyes for a brief moment, then he looked away again, embarrassed by the concern he found there. "I don't usually go around wishing I was dead or anything. Not a week ago I all but begged you not to let me die. It's just, uh, when they have you... all your reasons to live are the furthest thing from your mind. I don't have a daughter, when I'm there. I don't have a house, a job, a friend. When you're on that table you're not thinking about anything else. It's like nothing else exists. Nothing else _does_ exist. It's just you, and light, and pain, and some overplayed pop song on repeat." Steve's words began to fall out faster, his tone more frantic. "And you just don't know when it's gonna _end_. Like, the song finishes and it starts over again, and the whole thing is like that. You think it's done and then it starts over again, and you don't know how many more times you'll have to go through it, or how many more times you _can_ go through it, before--" Steve cut off, breath coming shallow and quick, and clutched his chest. "Oh God," he gasped. "Oh God."

Carlos jumped out of his seat and went to Steve. "Is there any pain?"

"No, just-- can't breathe," Steve forced out. "I can, but-- Feels like I can't."

"That's a panic attack," Carlos said. "Just--"

"Fuck, you think I've never-- I know what they-- I know what it is."

Carlos shrank back a bit, but then he spoke. "Steve. Steve, look at me."

Steve glanced up, just his eyes, and met Carlos' gaze. "Tell me to relax, I swear to God--"

"Where's Stella right now?"

"She's--rehearsal," Steve said.

" _Oklahoma!_ right?" Carlos asked. "Who is she playing?"

"Laurie, she-- She got the lead."

"Because she's been dancing her whole life and she's the best singer at the school."

"Yeah."

"Because she does real vocal exercises and doesn't just scream until her voice breaks."

"Yeah."

"You taught her?"

"Yeah." Steve realized he was breathing normally again, and he looked at Carlos with astonishment. He moved his hand from his chest, pushing it through his hair. "God, they... they never go away that fast."

Carlos sat back on his armchair and shrugged. "I know lots if different kinds of science."

Steve winced, ran his hand down his face. "I'm... sorry. I shouldn't have...."

"It's fine," Carlos said. "It's my fault anyway. I made you talk about it."

"How did you know that?" Steve asked. "About Stella's show and all."

"Cecil and I ran into her the other day when she was getting her guns cleaned," Carlos said. "She told us about getting the part and she was really excited about it. Cecil, well, he said he used to scream until his voice broke and it worked just fine for _him_ , but he was happy for her just the same."

"I suppose Bella seemed like she couldn't care less about the whole thing."

"Oh, Stella was by herself."

"She-- Bella was supposed to take her." Steve shook his head. "I swear, I could kill that woman sometimes."

Carlos refrained from saying that, no, he probably couldn't.

"Well, unless you have anything else to add," Carlos said, "I think we can wrap it up here."

"I think I'm done," Steve said.

Carlos stood and went to the camcorder, turning it off. "Thank you so much for this, Steve," he said, taking the SD card out of the camcorder.

"Actually, thank you," Steve said. "I uh.... I'm still not really used to people actually... you know.... listening to me. It was kind of nice. Notwithstanding the panic attack." He took the SD card from Carlos. "I'll get this to you when I can. I can't tell you when, and I can't tell you how--because then you'll tell them--but I will."

"You could bake it into a scone," Carlos suggested with a light smile.

Steve scoffed. "Sure. Let's go with that."

***

There wasn't a black bag waiting for Carlos outside of Steve's house. It was waiting outside of Carlos' lab. Lying on a table some time later, blinded by light, searing pain spreading through him, Carlos thought he could see the appeal that Steve found in this. It all seemed like so much trouble--if they had gone to it just for him, then what he was doing must have been oh so important. The plastic spoon must have been making a groove after all, if someone was making the effort to break it.

A bright, happy J-pop song, probably the intro to some really fun anime, was playing, over and over again. Carlos' heart rate matched the beat, but that was the only thing about the song that fit the situation.

In the moments before Carlos began to forget everything, he had to admit it was pretty funny.

***

Steve hadn't heard from Carlos since he'd left the house. Of course he assumed the worst, but there was really nothing for it but to hope the guy would be okay. Steve went about his afternoon, baking scones for the PTA meeting. When they were ready, he put them in a container and made his way to his car.

The moment he was out the door, a Secret Police officer grabbed him, while a second one wrenched the container from his hands.

"Hey!" Steve yelled as the officer ripped off the lid and began tearing the scones apart. "Those are gluten-free!"

"Nothing here," the officer said. The one holding Steve released him and they both tumbled away.

"Dammit," Steve muttered, looking down at the mess of ruined scones and an overturned Tupperware container. He wouldn't have time to make a new batch, and they hadn't even taken him in for re-education.

***

"You had one job, Steve Carlsberg," the president of the PTA said to him when he arrived at the meeting empty-handed. "You had one job."

***

On the way home from the meeting, Steve's phone rang. Stella.

"Dad, what did you do?" she demanded.

"You mean 'what' specifically?" Steve asked.

"I mean why did they raid the house?!"

"Honey, they always do that," Steve sighed.

"Not twice in one month! They took my double Spanish homework! And my Blue-Eyes White Dragon! I had to kill like seven kids for that card!"

" _What?_ Stella, you said it was two."

"Because I knew you'd freak out! Oh my God, Dad, that's not the point!"

"Sweetheart, they'll return your card after their tournament. They always do. As for your homework, I'll send a note to your teacher."

"Dad, don't!" Stella practically shrieked. "Do you know what my teacher does when you send her a note? She folds it into a little paper man, says 'behold! Steve Carlsberg!' and sets it on fire in front of the whole class! It's _so_ embarrassing!"

"I'm sorry, honey," Steve sighed again. Taking his daughter's homework for no reason was just plain malicious. "I don't know what to tell you. Do you have time to do the assignment again?"

She sighed heavily. "I _guess_. But this can't keep happening!" She hung up her phone and Steve put his away.

So they did have Carlos, and he'd told them about the SD card. That explained about the scones, too. They'd taken the joke seriously. He hoped they hadn't found it.

***

When Steve got back home he found the SD card where he had hidden it in a box of cereal, like a prize. He had to get it out of the house before they tried again, but if the Secret Police still had Carlos, he had nowhere to take it. He put it back, deciding to give it until morning.

***

Steve dressed for work and slipped the SD card into the cuff of his shirt. It would be too suspicious to call Carlos and see if he'd been released yet, so he decided to go about his job and see if he heard anything in town. As it turned out, someone was looking for _him_ , and it wasn't the Secret Police.

"Steve Carlsberg," came the growl from behind him.

Steve turned around. He probably should have expected to hear from Cecil. It wasn't surprising that the radio host had found out where he'd be working that day--everyone still loved to tell him everything.

"Hello, Cecil."

"Don't you 'hello' me," Cecil said. "What did you talk my Carlos into?"

"Cecil, I didn't--"

"He didn't return my 'good night' text last night! And I just saw him and he was eating _ice cream_ and had _bandages_ around his head!"

"Cecil, I'm really sorry that happened to him," Steve said. "I told him it was a bad idea, but he thought it was important, so I didn't want to stop him--"

"You should have!" Cecil shouted. "You should have stopped him! He wouldn't even talk to me. What if... What if he...."

"I'm sure he just needs a little time to--"

"Sure? You're _sure_? There's nothing _sure_ about this! What if he doesn't remember me?"

Cecil always took his own re-education sessions as a fact of life, an acceptable trade-off for doing or saying things that weren't strictly allowed. Better than being killed over it, really. But it seemed he thought differently when it came to Carlos. Well, that was love for you.

The desperation and fear in Cecil's eyes struck Steve, and he wanted to grab him by the shoulders and say, "this is what I've been talking about, Cecil. They can't be allowed to do this. To Carlos, to you, to Stella, to anyone. They need to be stopped." Instead he twisted his mouth into something like a smile, his eyes refusing to match the expression. "You know," he said, and his voice was a parody of the tone he was trying to convey. "I've been re-educated _dozens_ of time and I've _never_ forgotten you." He put an arm around Cecil's shoulder. "In fact, I'd say I know you better than anyone. So if you need someone to make you feel better--" he slipped his hand into Cecil's back pocket "--don't forget that I know how."

It was so much worse than anything Cecil ever thought Steve would say or do that it took a moment for him to catch up to what was happening. He made up for his slow response time with the intensity of his reaction, first recoiling from Steve's touch, then punching him in the face.

"How dare you," Cecil spat as Steve staggered back. "This is a new low for you, Steve Carlsberg. Don't you ever come near me or my Carlos again."

Steve said nothing, merely lifting his hand in a "sorry" gesture, then walked away, around the back of the house. He tested his jaw as he went. Not broken. Too bad. He deserved to have it broken. He felt sick. Sicker even than when the gopher shark bit him. He hated doing that to Cecil, but at least now no one had any reason to suspect that Cecil would help him. There was a rustling in the bushes, something too big to be a desert pocket mouse, probably. Steve stopped, breathed deeply, didn't turn his head. He grinned that cheerless grin that was becoming so familiar on his face.

"What took you so long?"

***

Cecil was livid, but also deeply hurt. Sure, he and Steve hadn't been on friendly terms for quite some time, but he wouldn't have though Steve had it in him to take advantage of Carlos' absence and Cecil's distress. He hadn't even thought Steve still wanted that from him after all this time and after Steve had been the one to end things in the first place. Cecil returned home, knowing he wouldn't be able to focus on any of his daily errands while desperately hoping for Carlos to call him. He emptied his pockets, and that was when he found the SD card.

"What--" he started to say, but remembering that there was always someone listening, he glanced at his window and changed course. "--am I going to do with myself today?" He flopped onto his bed, the SD card in his hand, and stayed there for what he hoped was a reasonable amount of time before grabbing his laptop.  He put the SD card in the proper drive and saw that the only file was a video. He plugged in his head phones before clicking.

He watched it through once, then went back and re-watched the parts where Steve and Carlos talked about him. He wished Carlos were on camera more, but it felt good just to hear his voice. He didn't know what Carlos thought this video would accomplish, didn't understand why Carlos thought it was so important, but if he'd been willing to face re-education for it, Cecil was going to get it to him. And maybe, if Carlos really had forgotten him, maybe hearing himself talk about Cecil would refresh his memory.

Cecil's phone rang and his heart leapt; Carlos. He tried not to get his hopes up--Carlos could just be calling the first number he found on his phone--and accepted the call with shaky fingers.

"H-hello?"

"Cecil," Carlos said, not a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Oh, Carlos, sweetheart," Cecil breathed. "I'm so glad you remember me."

"Of course, babe," Carlos said, but his voice was unsteady. "Of course I remember you. I need to see you, Cecil. Can you come over?"

"Yes, sweetheart," Cecil sad, grabbing his wallet, his keys, and the SD card. "Yes. I'll be right there."

Thank the Masters. Thank the Masters.

***

_"It's too dangerous. We can handle one, but not both. Not forever."_

_"We need The Exterminator more. There are other scientists."_

_"The Voice is upset we touched The Scientist at all. If we pursue a more permanent solution with him it'll be a PR nightmare. Getting a new exterminator will be easier than cleaning up a mess like that."_

_"If we kill The Exterminator, it'll upset STCRTFB."_

_"STCRTFB is not in charge here!_ I _am! ...Just the same, there's no reason to_ kill _him...."_

***

The sun was high when he woke up, a sign post at his back, a town in the distance, and sand all around. He didn't know the time, the day, or where he was. Searching his mind, all he found was a name. Steve. Steve what? Steve Nothing, apparently.

Steve's head was pounding, so he checked it with his fingers for wounds. Finding none, he checked the rest of himself, sore all over. He found no marks--at least not new-looking ones--except for what looked like a mostly-healed animal bite, and the words "ice cream" written on his forearm. The letters smeared when he touched them. Probably make-up. He checked his pockets for some form of ID that could give him his name and address. He found no ID, and worse, no wallet. No memory and no money. How wonderful.

Using the sign post for support, Steve stood up, and when he found his balance, he backed up enough to read the sign.

"Welcome to Desert Bluffs."

It was as good a place to start as any.

**Author's Note:**

> Carlos' song is made up, but Steve's is Brave by Sara Barielles.


End file.
